Closer Than She Thinks

by Meryl Sawyer

  “It was designed to get you in trouble without actually having enough evidence to warrant your arrest,” Sanchez added. “The media would convict you.”

  “How do you know what evidence they have?” Jake asked Sanchez.

  “I don’t. By their questions, they don’t have her fingerprints in the storage room, and they don’t have a single witness who can place Alyssa in the maternity ward.”

  “Because I was never there.”

  Sanchez gazed at her with sympathy in his dark eyes, but Jake turned his attention to Benson and was preoccupied with petting the dog. His physical presence tugged at her with a force she hadn’t anticipated. She wanted to be sitting next to him on the sofa, his nearness a comfort the way it had been when they’d waited for Aunt Thee to come out of surgery, but he didn’t want her close to him. She’d already embarrassed herself enough by throwing herself into his arms when he’d arrived at the police station.

  “Is there something—anything—you can think of that might help me?” Sanchez asked.

  She hesitated, reluctant to tell them about her real father. It would be humiliating to admit how badly the LeCroixs had treated her while her father had stood by, not caring. What could it have to do with this incident?

  “What aren’t you telling us?” Jake asked.

  He was more perceptive than she would have imagined. He was watching her intently, giving her the feeling she was on trial.

  “There is something I just learned, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the case.”

  “You’d be surprised how seemingly unrelated incidents are linked,” Sanchez told her. “I can’t help you unless I know everything.”

  “Maybe you’ll be more comfortable if I leave.” Jake stood up.

  “There’s nothing I can’t say in front of you.”

  “It’s all right. I have to get back to the office anyway.” He couldn’t have appeared less interested.

  She told herself not to let it bother her. She had more important issues to deal with, but she couldn’t help being a little hurt. She’d thought they’d become closer these last few days. Considering the way Jake had acted when Aunt Thee had been taken to the hospital, Alyssa had expected Jake to be more supportive now. Instead, he couldn’t wait to distance himself.

  “What is it you haven’t told me?” Sanchez asked when Jake closed the door behind him.

  She confessed that Gordon LeCroix was her real father. He didn’t seem particularly surprised.

  “Stranger things have happened,” he finally said, then changed the subject. “I understand Clay Duvall was at the hospital last night.”

  “He was waiting for me outside. He couldn’t get in because the building was in a Code Pink lockdown.”

  His expression stilled and grew serious, but he didn’t verbalize what he was thinking. Benson came over and put his head under her hand, silently demanding she take up petting duty.

  “Clay’s divorcing Phoebe. That’s what he came to tell me. Earlier he’d sent flowers to my aunt. He’s trying to persuade me to give him another chance, but I’m not interested.”

  “I don’t like coincidences. Clay has been on the scene twice when babies disappeared.”

  “The thought occurred to me, too, but why would Clay do such a thing?”

  Sanchez arched one eyebrow. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “No. Clay would have a hard time pulling it off. He isn’t exactly the type of man who could sneak into a nursery without being noticed. He’s too good looking.”

  “I’d agree but in hospital greens people tend to look alike. There are lots of men trooping in and out of the delivery room these days—all of them in greens. I’ll show his picture to the staff and see if anyone recognizes him.”

  “Maybe I’m being naïve but I don’t think Clay would hurt me.”

  Sanchez’s expression said he had his doubts. “When his son disappeared, Clay Duvall didn’t have an alibi. He’d been at the hospital earlier. Then he’d gone home to get some sleep, but no one could substantiate his story.”

  “Why would he kidnap his own son?”

  Sanchez didn’t have an answer.

  “Clay thinks there’s a good chance the baby wasn’t his. He claims Phoebe was … is promiscuous, and she has a thing for older men.”

  “He’s right. There’s hardly a well-known man in this town who hasn’t been approached by Phoebe. The chase is more fun than the catch, apparently. She dumps them quickly.”

  “Clay said Bubba Pettibone could have been the baby’s father. If the mayor fathered her child, it could ruin his career. There were others, too. Phoebe was supposed to be at Old Miss but she had a flat in the French Quarter. She entertained several older men.”

  “It’s possible one of them took the baby to protect himself. Clay planned to have a DNA test as soon as the child was born.” Benson nudged her hand, and she realized she’d stopped petting him. She fondled his ears, saying, “Assuming one of those older men did take the baby, they wouldn’t have any reason to take another baby.”

  “You wouldn’t think so, but we could be missing something.”

  “Did you locate Gracie Harper’s husband yet?”

  “No. He vanished after the divorce. Usually we can track down people through IRS records, but he hasn’t filed a return in years.”

  “I thought those records were confidential.”

  Sanchez almost smiled. “They are but some of us have ways of getting the information. I suspect the nurse’s husband is working somewhere and getting paid in cash. That way he doesn’t have income the feds can tax.”

  “Then you may never find—what was his name?—Claude.” She was glad she hadn’t pinned her hopes on this new lead.

  “I’ll find him, if he’s still alive. I’m checking DMV records in nearby states. Most people don’t stray too far from where they grew up. When they do, they go to Alaska or California. They always get a driver’s license.”

  “He could have changed his name.”

  “I don’t think he did. By all accounts, he was a good old boy with no criminal record and no child support payments to avoid. That’s the reason most men change their name. If he did, the DMV computers will pick up his fingerprints and let me know.”

  Again, she experienced a flare of hope, but she tamped it down.

  “If all else fails, I have my secret weapon,” he assured her with another smile. “There’s a central database that registers warranty cards people send in. Most big-ticket items like televisions and computers and stereo equipment get registered. Even if you’re doing your best to hide, the temptation to protect your investment is impossible to resist.”

  “Why not check this database first?”

  “It’s harder to get into.”

  “Harder than the IRS files?”

  “Sure. Everyone thinks about the IRS files. Checking warranty cards doesn’t occur to as many people. You have to pay someone with access to the confidential files.”

  “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she admitted. “Claude Harper may not know anything.”

  “I disagree. Most people can’t keep a secret. They’re very likely to tell their spouses or a close friend. Gracie didn’t have any close friends. The other nurses at the convalescent hospital where she was working said she kept to herself. My money’s on the former husband. He knows something. They had a very fancy wedding a few months after the baby disappeared. All the bills were paid in cash.”

  “Really? Why didn’t any of the investigators discover this?” she asked, angry that this hadn’t been unearthed earlier.

  “The police investigation was concluded before the wedding. According to their reports, no unusual amount of money appeared in her account. There weren’t excess funds in Claude’s account either. The private investigators hired afterward didn’t check closely enough to discover the whole wedding had been paid for in cash.”

  She stroked Benson’s head thoughtfully. “You think someone paid
off the nurse.”

  “It’s a definite possibility. The police have no leads in her killing. It couldn’t have been robbery. Nothing was taken. I suspect they killed her to shut her up.”

  “It could be coincidence that she had arranged to meet you.”

  “Like I said, I don’t buy all this coincidence.”

  “You’re probably right. I want to see this solved. It’s been a monkey on my back for years now.”

  He regarded her silently for a moment. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Even if you don’t think it pertains to the case, it might be helpful.”

  She doubted Max’s threat had anything to do with her problems, but it might. “Max Williams wants me out of TriTech.”

  When she finished explaining how Max had threatened her, Sanchez asked, “Did you tell Jake?”

  She shook her head. “No, and I’d rather you don’t say anything either. I don’t want to come between a father and his son.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Max has underworld connections. He—”

  “He does?”

  “It’s not unusual in New Orleans. It’s always been a corrupt city with an active criminal element. Max started with warehouses on the wharves where the wise guys are most active. He had to spread a little money around and establish a few connections to get ahead.”

  “He has political ambitions. Won’t this hurt him?”

  Sanchez chuckled, and she realized how naïve she sounded. “It hasn’t hurt any of the politicians so far. I’m not saying Max is trafficking drugs or anything, but he knows the right people. If he wanted to take care of you, all he had to do was make a phone call.

  “Taking a baby isn’t their style. Trust me. I worked in the FBI profiling unit for two years. There are male crimes and female crimes. Women rarely strangle or stab anyone, yet men often do. Women are more likely to shoot or poison their enemies.”

  “You’re saying taking a baby is something a female would do.”

  “Yes, in this case where it appears the intent was to make you look guilty. The Duvall baby may be a different story. It’s possible the real father took the baby, or Clay might have taken the baby for his own purposes.”

  “You don’t buy the theory a black market ring stole the baby.”

  “No. There is an underground network in babies. Sometimes they trade over the Internet, but if they got their babies by stealing them from hospitals, there would be a national outcry.” He shook his head, dismissing the idea. “It doesn’t mean the baby wasn’t handed over to the black market, but they didn’t abduct him from the nursery.”

  She had to admit everything he said made sense. Ghosts of the past no longer rushed at her, promising to bring back the pain, the helplessness. Not only was she older and stronger and better able to protect herself, but she had a true professional working on the case. Her spirits lifted just a little.

  The answer to this complex mystery was out there. It hovered in the distance like a mirage, but it was visible. Her enemies were not going to get the best of her. Not this time.

  Sanchez rose. “I’ve got work to do. Stay out of sight. Don’t talk to the media. I suggest you spend the night here.”

  “I can’t stay here. In case you haven’t noticed, Jake isn’t exactly thrilled with me right now. I’m embarrassing him. What would it look like if someone discovered I spent the night with him?”

  “I’ve known Jake for years, and I can tell you the last thing he worries about is what people think.”

  “But TriTech—”

  “Is a private company. A conglomeration of companies. Except for Rossi Designs, what you do won’t have any fallout for them.”

  “He’s upset with me about something.”

  “You spent hours facing down the NOPD. You have more guts than most men under the same circumstances. Don’t tell me you’re afraid to ask Jake what’s wrong.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “This is just so like, embarrassing,” said Ami Sue when Clay walked into his office in the middle of the afternoon.

  “What?” He couldn’t help being irritated. He’d been in a foul mood since Alyssa had turned him down again last night. Who in hell did Alyssa think she was?

  “Everyone’s been calling. The newspapers. Television. Radio stations. I’m your secretary. I’m supposed to know where you are. I so, like, didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get you on your cell phone. It was sooo embarrassing.”

  He’d deliberately turned off his cell phone. Threesomes in the sack were getting to be fun, a way to keep his mind off Alyssa. Why would he want to be disturbed?

  “The battery is out on my cell phone.” He stopped at the starry-eyed blonde’s desk and picked up a stack of messages. He tried to remember why he’d hired Ami Sue. She was nearly thirty but talked like a teenager who hung out at the mall. Oh, yes, he recalled as he glanced at boobs fit for a porn queen. He was saving her for a rainy day.

  “What’s all the fuss about?”

  Didn’t she read the papers or watch the news? “Someone tried to take a baby from Mercy General last night.”

  “Oh, that’s, like, so … terrible.”

  “Don’t tell anyone I’m in,” he said, opening the door to his private office. He planned to let the media dangle. The more they wanted you and had to fight for you, the longer your interview.

  “Not even Mr. Williams? He’s called three times.”

  “Jake?” he asked, and she bobbed her head. “I’ll call him.”

  Clay expected Jake to ask why he’d been at the hospital last night, the same question the media was salivating to know. He intended to avoid the media, but Jake was different.

  He’d concocted a “special” story to tell Jake, one sure to drive a wedged between Alyssa and Jake. Alyssa had called him would be his explanation, of course. She’d begged him to come. He’d gone to the hospital reluctantly, still believing she hadn’t been involved in the kidnapping of his own son. Naturally, he’d been too trusting. She must have been the one involved in this latest babynapping.

  He’d known Jake was going to be at Emeril’s, having a business dinner last night. It had all played out quite nicely—especially the disappearance of another baby while Alyssa had been at the hospital. He’d say he took Alyssa to Checkpoint Charlie’s because she was so stressed over her aunt. Going to the club had been her idea. Of course, he hadn’t suspected she really wanted to spend time with him.

  After all, not only was he drop-dead handsome, he was a nice guy. A woman like Alyssa Rossi could take advantage of him. Jake would buy the story and it would serve her right. If she wasn’t under arrest right now, she was cloistered with some criminal attorney trying to figure out how she’d gotten into this mess.

  She’d probably call him and ask for help. He could hardly wait to spell out his terms. Alyssa Rossi wouldn’t have any choice. She would be forced to give him another chance.

  He thumbed through the stack of messages, but none of them were from Alyssa. One was from Mitchell Petersen, the lawyer Phoebe had hired. He decided to call him back and see what was going on.

  Phoebe had been ominously quiet. He’d phoned the house today, and the maid told him she’d gone away. Knowing Phoebe, she had run home to Mommy and Daddy. It took a few minutes, but he finally got through to the lawyer.

  “I thought I’d put you on notice, as a fellow krewe member,” Mitchell said, and Clay almost laughed. The lawyer was a member of the Orion krewe, but he hardly participated. Still this was a small town where the Duvall family packed a lot of clout. No doubt, Petersen respected this. “I’ve filed divorce papers on behalf of your wife. You need an attorney. We need to settle the spousal support question ASAP.”

  Shit! That bitch planned to make him pay royally for bringing Alyssa home. Worse, he didn’t have anything to show for it. Alyssa seemed to mean what she said. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Phoebe was going to drag him through the muck.

  “You’re right,” he replied, inj
ecting a note of humor into his voice. “I need an attorney. Could you recommend someone?”

  By the time Clay hung up, he had a name, and he was fried. At Phoebe. At Alyssa. Women were nothing but trouble.

  He was in a spiteful mood, and he decided to go up and talk to Jake in person. He wanted to see the look on his face when Clay told him how Alyssa had called and begged him to come to the hospital.

  His attitude didn’t improve when the fag Jake had hired instead of a looker like Ami Sue kept him waiting for fifteen minutes.

  He plastered a smile on his face and sauntered into Jake’s office as if he had the world by the tail, which he did. Dante and Maree had a plan that would make them all rich. Technically, Clay was already wealthy, but why limit himself? On the other hand, what Dante proposed was risky. He needed to consider the proposition carefully.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” Clay stood in front of the massive oak desk that had once belonged to Max Williams. Why didn’t Jake get his own furniture?

  “Yes. I need to—”

  The phone rang and cut him off. Clay glanced down at the terminal and saw it was the interoffice line. The fag had deliberately interrupted them, he decided.

  “Ask them to wait just a few minutes.” Jake hung up and looked at Clay.

  He waited, savoring the moment. Jake acted more and more like his father every day. He had an imperious attitude that made Clay want to tear him down. He was nothing more than the captain of a sport fishing fleet who’d gotten lucky because his father had been even luckier and somehow had managed to catapult a warehouse business into TriTech.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Duvall Imports’ books.”

  “Books?” Clay responded. Not Alyssa?

  “Yes. Specifically the accounting.”

  “What about it?” Clay recalled Wyatt’s warning. How much did Jake know?

  “I’m going to have the accounting done here at TriTech, the way the rest of our companies are handled.”

  Ah, ha! Jake didn’t know anything. This was a cost-cutting measure. “Wyatt LeCroix’s firm has always done our accounting. Importing isn’t like other businesses. It requires special techniques. TriTech has a great accounting department, but no one is familiar—”